Space Cowboys
by Zokolov
Summary: After ME2, Shepard just doesn't feel like taking on any Reapers. Instead, she ignores the whole thing, takes the Normandy and its crew to live like she had always wanted to. But the Illusive Man isn't forgiving, and things are about to become complex...


**SPACE COWBOYS**

_Life is what you make of it_.

Shepard was snapped out of her thoughts. After dozing off for a moment, the 31-year old red-haired Commander was all but certain that the Human-Reaper was staring at her from behind the counter. But now that she looked more carefully, it turned out to be one of the Normandy's crewmen. The resemblance was quite uncanny, though.

"Uh… ma'am," the crewman pleaded pathetically. "Can I go now?"

"I need a moment to consider," Shepard replied. "In the meantime, get me another drink."

"Wasn't this _supposed_ to be a self-service bar, Commander?"

"I don't pay you to, um, talk," Shepard slurred, about to find out that not even she could hold down a bottle of batarian ale. "I pay you to… to… whatever it is that you do… now get me that drink!"

Shepard was sitting in the Normandy's shiny new bar, and she had insisted it to be one of the first things that needed fixing after the damage the Normandy suffered during the unforgettable little trip beyond the Omega-4 Relay. Kasumi wasn't there, fortunately, as Shepard was too tired of her little anecdotes. Then again, whenever Kasumi wasn't in her quarters, Shepard had the strangest feeling that she was being watched, but she soon shrugged it off.

She had forced a random crewman to serve her drinks, because quite frankly, she needed to abuse her power from time to time. That, and the whole ordeal with the Shadow Broker had left her tired and frustrated. She also needed to build up courage for her upcoming speech… and even in the 22nd century, the best way to build up ones courage was good old alcohol.

_But can I go through with it_, Shepard thought, _can I really follow a suggestion made by _Jack, _of all people_?

Shepard was once again forced from the warm place that was her thoughts by a loud, monotonous female voice coming from the intercom:

"_Shepard. I apologize for any interruptions, but Jeff wishes to speak to you on the bridge_."

Shepard sighed, and so did the crewman. While the crewman was relieved that he didn't have to play bartender for his Commander (who could also blast him into smithereens with a Heavy Warp), Shepard was more frustrated than anything.

"Sheesh, EDI," Shepard groaned and put her glass away. "How did you sneak up on me like that? Psst, that was a joke."

"_If you wish, Shepard, I can tell Jeff to wait a few minutes until you sober up._"

"Nah, better now than never," Shepard said and reluctantly got up, left the bar and started to stagger towards the elevator. "Well, actually… _never_ would be better," she continued, stammering drunkenly and laughing to herself. "You know, maybe you were right about that sobering up… thing… EDI…"

Shepard had to stop for a moment and grab support from the wall. She had to admit that she hadn't really noticed the amount of ale she had consumed before getting up.

"Maybe I should ask Miranda to do it instead," Shepard mumbled, but nonetheless got up and got into the elevator. "Ah, forget it, she'd screw it up anyway. EDI, I'm coming. Tell Kelly to be ready in case I pass out… that's her job, isn't it… or I dunno what she does… besides being a really good dancer… but you didn't hear it from me!"

"_Understood, Shepard_."

**Later, on the bridge…**

Jeff "Joker" Moreau, the Normandy's hollow-boned pilot was, like always, at his station, sitting in the luxurious leather seat. The shutters in the cockpit were closed, as Joker claimed that the vast emptiness of space "creeped the hell out of him". Standing behind Joker was the ship's resident turian, Garrus Vakarian, wearing his standard blue armor. While Joker slouched in his hair rather casually, Garrus was standing up straight and holding his hands behind his back, leading Joker to crack many quips about the hypothetical pole in Garrus' metaphorical ass. Garrus himself could only lament the humans' poor sense of humor.

Of course, there was one human who was an exception to that rule…

"Well speak of the devil," Garrus muttered when he heard Shepard stumbling towards him.

"What?" Joker exclaimed and turned in his chair. "You haven't said anything in five minutes, Garrus, what are you talking about?"

"Hm?" Garrus said. "Oh, uh… I thought I was thinking out loud… heh, funny how that happens sometimes…"

"HEY! GARRUS MY MAN!"

After greeting Garrus awfully enthusiastically, Shepard fell straight into the turian's arms, and Garrus could only give her a confused expression. Still, it didn't take long for Garrus to smell the batarian ale, and while Shepard just laughing stupidly, Garrus decided to take control of the situation.

"Commander, you've been drinking a little," Garrus deduced and helped Shepard stand up straight. "And by little, I mean a lot. How many fingers am I holding up?"

Shepard almost doubled over in laughter and had to grab Garrus' shoulder so she wouldn't fall on her face.

"Hah hah! You turians and your crazy anatomy," she laughed, "you only have like three fingers… priceless! But listen, Garrus, listen. Are you listening?"

"So far I am, yes."

"I don't care whether you had three fingers or six fingers or ten fingers… I don't care! You know why? 'Cause I love you a _thiiiiis_ much!"

Shepard tried to spread her arms to demonstrate, but Garrus stopped her. Joker, finally sensing the awkward moment, decided not to comment but pretended that he hadn't heard anything.

"Um… Shepard," Garrus whispered, "what are you doing?"

Ever since the night before storming the Collector Base, Shepard and Garrus hadn't really come in contact. And no one on the ship had learned about their little moment together. Hell, they themselves didn't really know what exactly was going on between them. Not that their feelings for each other were a secret to _anyone_ on the ship, but everyone liked to pretend that they didn't know anything. And everyone also liked it that way.

"Oh, right, sorry," Shepard said and laughed again. "I'm a real mess today…"

"A bit," Garrus said. "Joker! Until either Shepard sobers up or Miranda gets back on the ship, I guess I'm the acting captain."

"You _guess_ you're the acting captain?" Joker repeated. "Come on, Garrus, if you're gonna captain this thing you gotta be more… Shepard-y! And what about her big speech?"

"I guess it'll have to wait until-"

"NO!"

Shepard got up again, without staggering so much this time. She gently pushed Garrus out of her way and prepared to give her speech to the entire Normandy staff. It was important. Of course, everything was a real blur to her now, so Joker had to help her set up the intercom.

"Listen up, crew," she said and focused on every word so she wouldn't sound like she was drunk. "I have both good news and bad news. Bad news first: we're currently flying a ship stolen from Cerberus, half the galaxy wants us dead and the other half is preparing to fight against an armada of giant, squid-shaped spaceships. The good news is…"

Shepard paused for a moment and briefly looked at both Garrus and Joker. Neither of them seemed to have anything to say.

"Well, whatever the good news were, they bound to overshadow the bad news," Shepard improvised. "Now, I have an announcement to make, and I know some of you won't take this too kindly."

Shepard cleared her throat and started talking:

"I have made my decision. Right after I decided to tell the Illusive Man to suck it and blew up his precious base. We, and by that I mean the whole crew, will not be stepped on by anyone anymore. Not the Alliance, not the Council, not Cerberus. _No one_ will crush us under their heel! From now on, we live for ourselves."

"I know what you all might be thinking: Harbinger and the rest of the Reapers are coming, right? Maybe they are, maybe they're not. But this crew single-handedly saved the galaxy once already, and many of us were around to save it the first time. So if some old geezer in a fancy suit is going to tell us that we can't enjoy the calm before the storm, then… screw 'em! Pretty soon there won't be a sky to fly on, and then what?"

"So, as of today, we are independent! I realize that some of you may be against my decisions. However, my decision is final, so, in case anyone wishes to leave, then they can report to XO Lawson tomorrow morning. I respect your decision. Although I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you that I saved all of you from becoming paste just a few weeks back. That is all."

Shepard took her finger off the intercom button and inhaled deeply. She hoped that everyone onboard understood just how important they were for her, and hoped that she wouldn't see a huge line in front of Miranda's office tomorrow morning. She also realized that Joker and Garrus had not said anything for a while.

"Well?" she asked them.

"Commander," Joker started.

Shepard was shocked - the way he said it was just so serious and out of character.

"Yes?"

"I don't care where you'll plan to take the Normandy," he said, "but wherever she goes, I go! Plus, it's not like I could just step up and casually walk away, y'know."

"I might just cry," Shepard said.

Garrus looked at her, and Shepard responded with a sly smile - the same smile that she knew would always make Garrus all awkward and stuttering. Only this time, Garrus responded back with something resembling a smile - or maybe the big, cool scar on his scaly face just played tricks on her mind.

"Say, acting captain," Shepard said, "since I'm still full of ale, would you mind carrying me into the bed?"

"Shocking, Shepard," Garrus replied, "I would have never thought we'd have a situation like this. Hell, even when I'm in armor, you could probably carry me just as well."

"You always pick the right line, don't you Garrus?" Shepard said.

She was getting tense and started to feel sweaty. Also, she could think more clearly now. Who cared what anyone on the crew think? And the hell with chafing! She was sober enough to know she wanted it, but drunk enough to ignore everything else. Just as long as she didn't ingest, everything should be peachy, right?

Shepard wrapped her arms around Garrus, who effortlessly picked her up and started carrying her towards the elevator. Shepard knew that Joker, Kelly and every single crewman stared at them or pretended not to stare at them, but right now, all she could think about was the big, handsome turian cradling her in his arms.

"I thought you said I had weird fingers, Shepard," Garrus said as he stepped into the elevator.

"Yeah, but we can work with that. That's not why I was drawn to you, anyway."

"Then what was?" Garrus wondered.

As the doors were closed, the elevator began its painfully slow ascent towards the captain's quarters. Shepard eyed Garrus and played with him, constantly opening and closing her mouth to keep Garrus on his toes.

"'Come on, what was it?" Garrus asked. "My eyes? My scales? My incredible sniping skills? My smooth, seductive voice?"

"Mmmmaybe," Shepard said. "But the scar I dig the most."

Shepard touched Garrus's scar lightly. It's not like she didn't have a fair share of scars herself, and on general principle, she refused to let Dr. Chawkas heal them. To her, every scar was like a souvenir from a mission. Every time she saw herself on the mirror, she was reminded about the little Cerberus operation she had and how the Illusive Man was probably crying over his lost money in his luxurious space station. Okay, perhaps that wasn't likely, but it was a pleasant thought.

It also reminded her of every mistake, every person who had died because of her… and enough was enough. No one would die on her watch anymore. No one would be left behind.

Garrus looked away, as if he was feeling ashamed. Shepard wouldn't blame him. It was amazing how much alike the two were - to Garrus, the scar was something that would always remind him of Sidonis' betrayal and the butchering of his unit.

So, it was safe to say that both Shepard and Garrus had done their fair share of mistake. Now it was time to put the past behind and start anew. No more Archangel, no more Butcher of Torfan…

The elevator doors popped open at last, and Garrus struggled to carry Shepard all the way to the bed, on which he finally dropped her.

"Looks like our foreheads are going to be sore tomorrow," Garrus said.

Shepard snorted.

"Smooth, Garrus," she quipped. "Hmm, I know EDI's _always_ watching, but I'd appreciate some privacy now. Okay? Okay!"

"Well now that I ruined the moment already, there's something I have to tell you…"

"What is it?" Shepard asked.

Garrus sat on the bed next to Shepard.

"Liara contacted us just a while ago," he said, "she's coming here tomorrow. Said she had something important to tell."

"Meh. I'll think about it tomorrow," Shepard said. "Now, where were we… oh, and remember: don't ingest!"

"I'll keep that in mind…"

* * *

_Coming up next: Liara comes for a chat while Shepard has a meeting with the rest of the squad, plus traces of an overarching plot. Ooh, drama!_

_Author's Notes: So, we begin the first chapter. Don't worry, this is just a prologue, it'll get better. What you are going to see will be a long, "epic" tale full of action, adventure, romance, comedy, betrayal, banter, mystery and all sorts of other things that I may or may not be capable of delivering. Obviously, this takes place after Mass Effect 2 (and Lair of the Shadow Broker). While it may take darker turns, basically it's going to be a rather humorous and occasionally lighthearted tale of the continuing adventures of the Normandy. I'm a dude myself, but I like to use female Shepard. Mainly because Jennifer Hale is the greatest voice actor in the history of life, universe and everything._

_Also, any possible future resemblances or references to Firefly, Star Trek or The Love Boat are just an amazing cosmic coincidence and besides, I don't even know what those shows are! Honest!_


End file.
